Ronnikins and My Dearest Angelina
by Tarrant Hawkins
Summary: An aged Ron Weasley discovers some letters that Fred had written.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters (J.K. Rowling does) and I do not intend to make money off them.  
  
A/N: This short story takes place long after Harry, Ron and Hermione graduated from Hogwarts. It is also is rather sad in nature. The idea just came to me and I went with it.  
  
An aged Ron Weasley slowly walked up the stairs to the Burrow's attic. His whole body gave off the aura of sadness from his stooped shoulders to the dark shadows around his eyes. His auburn hair was streaked heavily with white and his 6'4" frame lacked its vibrancy. He trudged up the stairs, almost dragging his feet, not happy to be about the task before him. Brown eyes lost in thought, the youngest Weasley son almost walked into the door. Staring at the door sorrowfully, he opened it slowly, as if the door was heavier than it actually was. Stepping into the attic, he looked around and found himself once again in the past.  
  
Bits and pieces of his childhood in this cozy home surrounded him. In one far corner, orange assaulted his eyes as his collection of Chudley Cannon materials that once bedecked the walls of his room lay in a heap. The players still waved from the poster, albeit a little less enthusiastically then he remembered. A bit closer to him, Ron studied the outline of Percy's first desk. A surprisingly thin layer of dust coated the object, almost as if the desk still sensed Percy's meticulous attitude. Next to the desk lay a large stuffed dragon toy that had belonged to a very young Charlie Weasley. This Norwegian Ridgeback was missing an eye among other things. A grim smile lit Ron's face as his eyes fell on a large wooden crate with warning signs posted all over it. He walked over to the crate, lifted the lid gingerly and looked inside.  
  
A streamer flew toward his face, but Ron batted it aside thoughtlessly. The crate was filled with objects from Fred and George's old room. Unused dungbombs, a few bags of canary creams, paraphernalia from Zonko's joke shop, a few wands that most likely were fake, two beat up cauldrons with cracks in them, and a large yellow notebook were just a portion of the crate's contents. Ron reached inside the crate and cautiously removed the yellow notebook, not knowing what else the twins may have done to the crate's contents in their younger years.  
  
Ron stepped away from the crate and looked at the notebook. Its yellow cover was beaten, the words barely legible on it. "Weasley Wizarding Wheezes," Ron whispered, just making out the words by squinting his eyes. "Lumos," he said, summoning a small bit of light so he could read the notebook more easily. Sitting down awkwardly, his bones creaking, he opened the cover and began to read slowly.  
  
On the inside of the cover, Fred and George's names were scrawled as well as the year. On the actual notebook pages itself were recipes for their different pranks, some of the first ones they had concocted over the years: ton tongue toffees, canary creams, and more. Ron momentarily wondered why this notebook wasn't at their shop, but then realized that the twain had most likely memorized these simple pranks long ago. Turning the pages, Ron also found tentative price lists, inventories, and even potential shop designs.  
  
He was nearing the end of the notebook when several letters suddenly fell out of the notebook. In contrast to the rest of the notebook, the letters were in pristine condition, the white envelopes not yellowed, smudged or torn. Setting the notebook on the floorboard next to him, Ron took the envelopes in shaking fingers and peered at them. Fred's business like handwriting, so different from his illegible scrawls from his childhood, gleamed back up at him.  
  
A footstep creaking on the stairs caused Ron to turn around. Silhouetted in the doorway, stood Angelina, her dark face weary but gentle. "You've been up here for ages, Ron," she said slowly. "You should come back down to the world for awhile."  
  
Ron glanced down at his watch and realized he had indeed been up in the attic for a long time. "I will," he said slowly. "But not quite yet. I just found something interesting."  
  
He waited for Angelina to walk over to see what he had found. "I was going through the crate like you asked me to," he explained. "I was going through this old notebook and these letters fell out." He picked up the three envelopes and showed them to the former Gryffindor Chaser. Angelina looked at them, but would not touch them, a shadow passing over her eyes.  
  
Ron reluctantly took the envelopes back and read them. "There's one for me, one for you and one for George," Ron said quietly, his voice almost breaking. "They're from him. Do you want to read yours?"  
  
"No," Angelina said a bit forcefully. "I mean, why don't we read them together, out loud? We'll save George's though for when he gets back from the graveyard."  
  
Ron nodded, thinking briefly of his older brother's plight the past two weeks. It was hard enough for him and Angelina, but George was the hardest hit as he had never been without Fred before, never. Even when they had gone out into the world, they had always roomed close to one another. And when Fred and Angelina had inherited the burrow, George had taken up residence in his old room.  
  
A little more than two weeks ago, Fred had been a vibrant part of all of their lives, running a small chain of joke shops, chasing his grandkids, and still playing Quidditch for fun despite the taunts of the younger people. Then he was gone. It wasn't an accident, which could have been possible when making pranks, it wasn't a disease. No, Fred Weasley had simply passed away in his sleep at the age of seventy-five taking a nap at the end of a day at work. George had found him.  
  
"We can read them together," Ron replied to Angelina, stirring himself out of his memories. "Yours first or mine?"  
  
"Yours," Angelina said quietly, sitting down next to Ron on the floor.  
  
Ron opened the envelope, removed a piece of vibrant yellow paper covered in Fred's handwriting. Ron's eyes blurred for a minute, and then he began to read outloud slowly.  
  
"Stop sniveling and get on with life Ronnikins," he read, a choked laugh in his voice. "If you are reading this, than obviously I am no longer living as you would never dare to open that crate otherwise since you'd probably worry that there'd be a giant spider inside." 


	2. Ron's letter

Ron looked up from the letter, its words blurring momentarily as a tear trickled down his face. Wiping his face scornfully on the sleeve of his robe, he turned back to his letter, afraid to look at Angelina less he start crying all over again. Thus, he missed the look of sympathy on her face.  
  
"Now I never was one to give you advice on life, but just this once you need to hear some. You need to be yourself Ron, not who think everyone wants you to be. Granted it's a little late in life for you to change, but better late than never. I remember when you were a real little Ronnikins pegging you to be the latest version of Percy, but then you'd do something that threw that opinion out the door like sneaking out to the garden, breaking my toy broom (yes, I still remember that.your look of terror at the spider your teddy bear became was unforgettable. Too bad I never made that a prank for the store), and later on, sneaking out after hours with Harry Potter.  
  
The most memorable expression I can recall from your face, from infancy on, was that scrunched up worried look on your face when you realize something is dreadfully wrong. I remember the first time you played Quidditch with us older boys, you got flattened by the bludger and mom yelled at me for a week about it. Then there was your first day at Hogwarts when George and I had you convinced that sorting was going to be the most horrible experience of your life, filled with danger. You were so concerned you'd be in a different house, that you wouldn't get Gryffindor. Your look of relief was absolutely priceless.  
  
The thing is Ron, you don't have to be the best, you don't have to be the hero, you don't have to be better than all the other Weasleys. I saw how much you struggled with being the youngest boy, of having the oldest hand me downs, of how much you wanted to be memorable in and off yourself and not compared to Bill, Charlie, Percy, George or me. It doesn't matter if you weren't as smart as Percy or as good at Quidditch as Charlie or as popular as the infamous Weasley twins," Ron paused in his reading, taking in a deep breath before continuing, "We were all focused on one thing above all, but you Ron, you had pieces of each of us and something more.  
  
Well that's more than enough brotherly advice from me, otherwise you'll go around with a big head. I'll just remind you that there are still pranks hidden all over the Burrow, not to mention that little apartment you call your own in Hogsmeade. One day, you'll have found all of them, but that won't be for a long time yet. Not unless you've recently gotten a lot better at finding them.  
  
Fred  
  
Ron folded up his note again, a sad smile on his face. His brown eyes picked up the date on the envelope, a date only three weeks earlier. Sliding the paper back into the envelope, he finally looked at Angelina with over bright eyes.  
  
"Your letter next?" he asked softly. 


	3. angelina's letter

Angelina turned her head away from Ron's as she noticed the tears brimming on his eyelids. She wanted to give him a bit of privacy, but there was more to her motivation than that. She didn't want to break down herself and cry. In her mind, she knew part of his burden must be greater than hers as he had never known life before without Fred. Still, her throbbing heart wouldn't quite agree with her mind. The last few weeks had been the hardest she had ever known, even including the day she had a final each with McGonnagal and Snape. After a moment of tense, emotional silence, Angelina answered Ron with only the barest hesitation in her voice.  
  
"Yes," she said softly. "Please."  
  
She turned her dark head back towards Ron and watched him lay aside his letter and open the one addressed to Angelina. His aging fingers fumbled with the envelope, but he wrestled the letter free. He cut his right index finger on the envelope, and Ron promptly stuck his finger in his mouth to stop the bleeding. Turning red with embarrassment, he asked Angelina a question one more time before unfolding her letter.  
  
"Are you sure you want me to?" he asked dubiously. "I don't want to intrude."  
  
"Yes, Ron, I'm sure," Angelina said snapping just a bit. "Get on with it." A fire danced in her eyes.  
  
Turning just a little more red, Ron unfolded the letter in his hands and began reading in hushed tones. "My dearest Angelina," Ron paused awkwardly after this, but Angelina motioned him to continue. Taking a deep breath, he plunged onward.  
  
"I hope you never have the chance to read this, Angelina, because I do not want you to have to live without me. But I don't want to live without you either. I love you and I can no longer imagine life without you. Yes, this is Fred writing, though I know I don't often talk like this. And there was a point in my life, when I was young.and well foolish in the ways of the heart, if not in how to pull off a good a prank, that I never would have written those words.  
  
But you are one of the reasons why I can and do write such words now. No, I didn't fall in love with you the first time I saw you, the first time I met you or even the first time I played a game of Quidditch on the same team as you. At first, you were just a girl to me, granted a girl who was pretty good with a broomstick. But somewhere along the way, I fell for you. I didn't even realize it until a game we had with Slytherin. Marcus Flint had stolen the beaters bat and hit a bludger right toward you and you were boxed in by two Slytherin chasers. I was a long ways off, but I knew I couldn't let it hurt you, so I made my broom fly faster than I think it ever had for you. Darn bludger caught me in the face, but it was worth visiting Madam Pomphrey after the game and Oliver Wood's lecture.  
  
Then, almost on a dare from Ron, I asked to the Yule Ball so casually. I don't know what I would have done if you'd had said no. Ronnikins would have never let me forget that," Ron paused in his reading, chuckling over that statement before continuing.  
  
"We sure showed everyone what real dancing was all about at that ball. Then there was the private dinner I arranged for you in Filch's office our seventh year, while Filch was otherwise occupied. And graduation day, when we bid farewell to Hogwarts, and also to each other for awhile. But we were back together within the month while you were working at the Three Broomsticks and I was setting up the joke shop with George. That was a hard time for me at first, having to be responsible, planning new products, racing around, never getting enough sleep. And you were busy too, so it looked like nothing final would ever come.  
  
But then, two years later, we were wed in the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Peeves showed up with a bow tie and everyone was there, even the professors, though having Snape at the wedding was perhaps not the best thing ever. You were so gorgeous that day (not that you aren't everyday) and I don't think anyone has ever looked better. Your sparkling white gown and veil were unbelievable.  
  
Marriage brought a whole new dimension I hadn't thought of to my life. You became another best friend for me (George was first, I suspect that comes from being twins) and this pillar of enthusiasm that I leaned on, even though you would thrash me on the quidditch field occasionally. No one's perfect, not even a prankster beater on a quidditch field. And then there were the kids and suddenly I understood why Mum was always frustrated with George and me. The day Alexis and Krysta were born was the happiest and most stressful day of my life. You and Mum kicked me out of the hospital room and made me go find Ron, George, Percy, dad, basically the whole clan and our friends. When I got back, there you were, sleepy but resplendent holding our two twin girls. Granted that sleepy look lasted exactly as long as it took for me to suggest naming them Freda and Angel.  
  
Now they've grown, gone to Hogwarts, and moved on with their lives. Quiet times with you were something new to appreciate. But growing old was hard on me, Angelina. I thought I'd always be young at heart, but it scared me when I couldn't block a bludger as hard or fast as I used to. It scared me more when I'd have to sit down from running to hard with Charlie's grandkids. There were just little moments, but I don't think anyone noticed but you.  
  
If you are reading this, then I've left you all alone. I hope I had the chance to say goodbye, but if I didn't here it is. Goodbye my dearest Angelina. You made me who I am and I'll be waiting for you."  
  
Ron put the letter on the floor. He didn't look at Angelina, nor did she look at him. Tears silently slipped down her face and hit the floor. A loud bang caused both of them to jump. The looked over to the attic doorway and saw a very scruffy, disheveled looking George standing there. His old blue sweater emblazoned with a gold G was crooked, his red and white hair standing on end, and there was dirt on his face.  
  
"Sorry," he mumbled. "I just got back from.well, I just got back. I couldn't find you and I got worried."  
  
Frown lines that had been seen far too often recently stretched across his face. "What are you doing up here anyway?" His brown eyes settled on the small pile of enveloped near Ron.  
  
"Oh," George said suddenly, going pale. "Are those Fred's." 


	4. George's Letter

"Yes," Ron replied to the sole remaining Weasley twin, not quite looking his brother in the eye. "We already read the ones for us. There's one for you."  
  
George, still pale, sat down abruptly on the floor near Angelina and Ron. Angelina gave George's arm a reassuring squeeze, but George seemed not to notice it. Instead, his brown eyes were focused on the letter held in his youngest brother's hands.  
  
After an awkward moment of silence, Ron spoke again, concern in his brown eyes. "Do you want to read it? We could leave you up here to..."  
  
But George interrupted, "No, don't leave me up here by myself. You read it, Ronnikins."  
  
"But," Ron protested, not exactly wanting to read this letter, not wanting to intrude on the obvious bond the twins had. It'd be even more unnerving than reading Angelina's letter.  
  
"Read," George said shortly, "Please." George suddenly looked weary, tired and older than he was.  
  
"Go on Ron, read the letter," Angelina said quietly.  
  
Broken out of his hesitation, Ron took the envelope and carefully ripped the top of the envelope with his finger. He pulled out the letter, opened it slowly and then flattened it. Taking a deep, chest rattling breath, the youngest Weasley boy began to read the letter.  
  
"George, Gred, Brother, Twin," Ron began reading the salutation. George managed a weak smile at this part of the letter.  
  
After a pause, Ron continued reading. "If you are reading this, George, than something I never wanted has happened. I am sorry for that, but I admit I'm glad its not me in your place. I can't remember a time when you weren't there, ready for a new plot to drive everyone else around use crazy. Though I think there were a few precious minutes where I was alive and you weren't as I am the oldest Weasley Twin.  
  
There was something magical about being a twin. You were always there, my constant companion, from my earliest memories on. The first thing I can remember is the two of us launching our oatmeal at little baby Ron and mum finding out and yelling. She seemed to do a lot of that when we were just having a bit of fun.  
  
Heading to Hogwarts would have been scary by myself. I remember having nightmares where we were sorted into different houses before we started our first year. Luckily that didn't happen and Gryffindor was certainly never the same after we started there-all the passages we found, the pranks we pulled, beating bludgers on the Quidditch field.  
  
But it was also at Hogwarts that we began to grow apart, which was difficult. I started going out with Angelina and suddenly there was something we didn't share in common. You were angry with me at times about this which was not easy for me to deal with. However, nothing could stop us for long, could it?  
  
After graduation, when we left Filch with the start of a second filing cabinet dedicated to us, we finally got to start our dream and mum couldn't throw out our products anymore. We opened our joke shop for real, no more inventory sheets and hitting up Gryffindors to buy and test our products. Though making new stuff was much more interesting than the business aspect.  
  
I am sorry that I'm not there George, that you're the one who has to figure out how to be without a twin. Take care of Angelina for me George. Now stop sniveling and finish up whatever prank we were last working on. Oh, and make sure that you keep Ronnikins' life interesting. He gets dreadfully too serious. And check in on my kids, they need their Uncle George. And if Percy comes by, harass him as usual. He's not as stuffy as he used to be, but he's still too formal. Make him remember what it was like to have a good time.  
  
Fred"  
  
Ron finished reading the letter. He was torn between smirking at Fred's comments on Percy and crying anew for the loss of his brother. However, George had a different reaction. Color back in his face, he jumped up and ran to the attic door. He darted down the stairs loudly. Then the footsteps stopped and came thudding back up. Head poking out of the doorway, George looked at Angelina and Ron still sitting on the floor.  
  
"What are you two doing down there? We've got things to do!"  
  
"What do you mean George?" Angelina asked, puzzled at this sudden switch in mood.  
  
"Why, Fred's last prank he was working on should be ready for bottling now. It takes two weeks to congeal."  
  
Shaking her head at the irrepressible nature of red-headed pranksters, Angelina got up and helped Ron back up to his feet. Ron placed the letters in the notebook again and carried the lot down the stairs.  
  
"So what does this prank do anyway?" Ron asked George loudly as George was already down the staircase.  
  
"It's a potion that causes your thoughts to be written across a person's forehead," George explained as he grabbed a jacket and a broomstick. 


End file.
